


Vigil

by Jaydee_Faire



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Anal Fingering, Banter, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff, Laughter During Sex, Light Angst, Loud Sex, M/M, Scars, Sex, Sex Is Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydee_Faire/pseuds/Jaydee_Faire
Summary: Ramza and Delita find each other again in Zeltennia.
Relationships: HEAVILY implied Delita/Isilud, Implied Ramza/Agrias, Implied Ramza/Mustadio, Ramza Beoulve/Delita Heiral
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Vigil

They broke apart, panting.

"I feared I would not see you again," Ramza breathed. "I did not want to leave you-- I wanted--"

"I scarce could have bent you over a pew," Delita said, mouth quirking up. "And with Valmafra waiting outside. She already knows more than I'd like her to."

"There was a time when you weren't as hesitant to be seen with me."

"We aren't boys any longer. Besides." Delita drew him closer. "Your face is on a thousand handbills from here to Gariland. You're the Heretic, remember? The High Confessor has made it clear that anyone associating with you will be similarly condemned."

Ramza rested his forehead against Delita's shoulder. "Do you believe that of me?"

"Believe what?"

"That I have committed the most grievous of sins--"

"Of course I do."

Ramza's head jerked up. "I--"

"I remember the sort of blasphemy that came from that mouth of yours when we were together," Delita said lowly. "Had the inquisitors come to me, I would have told them--"

_"Delita,"_ Ramza laughed, shoving him away. 

"--How I would have to occupy your mouth to keep you from bringing the Heavenly Father's wrath down upon us," Delita went on, reaching forward to grasp the laces on Ramza's shirt. 

"There are men who want to see me hang," Ramza said.

"Get on the bed," Delita growled.

Ramza stripped off his shirt, stumbling ungracefully backwards onto the narrow inn bed with Delita atop him. "As a servant of the Church I am bound to assist the Inquisitors in their duty," Delita said, his hands moving across Ramza's skin. "Shall I look for the devil's mark upon you? Here? Or perhaps this one." He bent to kiss a long scar along Ramza's ribs, then found another just beside it, tracing it with a fingertip. "These are scarcely healed. Do you truly fare so poorly without me to look after you?"

"I did not linger long at the church after we parted," Ramza said breathlessly. "I did what I could, but I did not want to make it too difficult for you to find me."

"The Highest of Saints could strike me blind and still I could find you as easily as finding my own hands."

"Kiss me again," Ramza said.

Delita's kiss was rougher this time, mouth and teeth and tongue, and when he moved to Ramza's ear and his throat he was rewarded with a whimper of longing. "Perhaps I'll leave a mark of my own for the Inquisitors to puzzle over," Delita murmured. "Perhaps more than one."

"Please--"

"Please, what? Be still." 

Delita opened his mouth against Ramza's neck, beneath his chin; Ramza squirmed, gasping. "There," Delita said, drawing away. "Now you needn't explain to anyone where you'd gone. And another," he said, thumbing Ramza's nipple, "for the pleasure of it. I know how sensitive you are."

"Only to your touch," Ramza said. "No one else knows me as well as you do."

Delita's smile didn't do much to lighten the darkness in his gaze. "And how many other hands have you trialed?"

"A few." A coy look. "I am not _always_ running about putting holy men to the sword, you know."

"Tell me."

"A boy," Ramza said, carding his fingers through Delita's hair as he trailed kisses over Ramza's chest. "Very enthusiastic, but inexperienced. He handled me like one of his machines, as if he needed only a bit of sweat and grease to get the result he desired. And he himself went off like a flash of powder."

"When we were boys, I could make you come by kissing your neck."

"You were doing a bit more than just kissing my neck," Ramza chuckled. 

"Is that all? Boys unprepared for the sort of work you would demand from them?"

"A woman, as well. Rather, a swordmaiden."

"A _woman?"_

"When we parted, I felt as if we'd just finished sparring, not making love," Ramza said. "She gave me no quarter, nor any chance to protest. And when it was done she simply rose and dressed, leaving me laying stunned on the bed. By morning I was nearly too sore to move."

"She must have been quite handsome, to turn your head."

"And you?" Ramza traced the rim of Delita's ear. "Had you found someone to your liking?"

"That would be telling." Delita was unlacing the front of Ramza's pants, loosening them enough to slip his hand inside them and find Ramza's cock. "Besides, you know my needs have never been as... pressing as yours."

"The number of times you had me against the wall of the stables--"

"For the pleasure of hearing you moan my name," Delita said. "It is a pleasure I've sorely missed." 

A further tug of the laces allowed Delita to free Ramza's cock from its confines; Ramza drew a sharp breath, reaching down to lay his hand atop Delita's. "Slowly," he said. "Or I fear I won't last."

"That hasn't changed either, hm?"

"Sauce. I've been waiting since this afternoon."

"When we were nearly killed by Church officials?"

"When you kissed me in the ambulatory." Ramza sighed, eyelashes fluttering as Delita slid his hand down the length of his shaft. "I wanted you then."

"I couldn't risk being seen again."

"You had your hand down the back of my pants," Ramza said.

"I had been waiting quite a bit longer than one afternoon for _that."_ Delita bent his head to kiss the tip of Ramza's cock. "How would it have looked, Ramza, a Knight Devout defiling the sanctity of a church with a heretic?"

"Delita--"

"If someone had stumbled upon us," Delita said, casting a glance at him, "I might have had to share."

"Are you going to make me beg?" Ramza asked hoarsely.

"Do you have a mind to?" 

_"Delita."_

Delita hooked his fingers into the hem of Ramza's pants, dragging them the rest of the way off, with a pause for a round of muttered curses as they both struggled to pull his boots off as well. When he returned to his position between Ramza's thighs, it was with a glass phial in one hand and the other already dripping with oil.

Ramza lifted his head a little. "You carry that about with you?"

"When I go somewhere with the intent of fucking someone I have wanted to fuck every time I've seen him in the last two years," Delita said coolly, "yes."

Ramza laughed again, drawing one knee up and laying back against the pillows. He sighed as Delita slipped one oil-slick finger inside him, his abdomen tensing, hips lifting off the bed to meet the inward thrust of a second digit. "There," he said. "Ah. _Yes."_

"I have had a great deal of time to think of exactly what I wanted to do to you, when I had you again," Delita said. "Long hours on my knees in Mullonde, mouthing prayers and imagining burying myself in you." He crooked his fingers slightly upward, felt Ramza's body quiver in response. "Having to see to myself in the hours between Matins and Lauds in any place I could find a bit of privacy."

"And had you no one to offer you any release?" 

"Pious virgins and repentant whores," Delita said. "No one like you."

Ramza bucked suddenly, thighs closing around Delita's hand. He bit down on his lip, failing to stifle a desperate mewl of a moan. "Let it come," Delita said, pushing Ramza's legs apart again with his free hand. "Let yourself have it, and I shall give you another."

One hand over his mouth and the other twisted into the sheets, Ramza arched, shuddering, for the space of one long moan of pleasure and then a second. Delita took Ramza's cock in his hand, licking away the fluid beading there, and renewed the insistent thrust of his fingers until Ramza cried out again, this time ending on a wavering plea for mercy. "Don't-- don't-- no more," he gasped. "I don't want to come yet-- I want--"

"I know what you want," Delita said. He smoothed his palms over Ramza's hips. "And haven't I always indulged you?"

Ramza sat up, drawing him into a kiss. "Indulge me now," he said, fingering the laces at Delita's sleeves. "But not dressed as you are, as if we're rubbing up against each other in an alleyway. Let me take this off."

Delita said nothing, but allowed Ramza to loosen his shirt and pull it off. There was a moment of silence as Ramza looked at him and Delita looked elsewhere; finally Ramza asked softly, "Is this from Ziekden?" And when he received no reply: "Delita... I didn't know."

"Did you think you could go away, and everything would be just as you left it when you returned?"

"No, I-- oh, Delita." Ramza put his arms around him, drew him close so that he could feel the rough pattern of scars against his own chest. "I had forgotten how skilled you are at hiding yourself. That you did not like anyone to know you were in pain."

"It doesn't pain me any longer."

"Doesn't it?" Ramza pulled away to look up at him. "But you did not want me to see it."

Delita's lips moved in something not quite a smile. "When I saw you again at Orbonne that day, you were twice as beautiful as when I'd left you."

"You thought I'd be repulsed." Ramza drew his fingertips across the vast scar, ridged and uneven. "That I would reject you?"

"Perhaps that you would pity me."

Ramza opened his mouth to deny it, then thought better of it. "I might have, once," he admitted. "When we were children, and I thought a man's past would forever steer his future. But these years have seen the both of us change, haven't they?"

"For the better, or worse?"

"It doesn't have to be one or the other." Ramza let his fingertips follow the scarring down Delita's left arm, across his flank where the skin was further discolored and marred as he'd put on weight and muscle. "But I've heard it said that as things change, ever do they remain the same. And there are some things about you that shine even more brightly. The strength in you. The passion."

"You have a poet's tongue," Delita said faintly. 

"That I cannot look at you without remembering the first time you kissed me," Ramza went on, finding a path along Delita's stomach still soft enough to prickle with goosebumps when he pressed his mouth to it. "And all the times since." 

He undid the fastening on Delita's pants, drawing out his cock that was swelling with his interest. "And this," Ramza murmured, "hasn't changed either."

Delita let out a breath, watching the familiar flutter of Ramza's eyelashes, the moistening of his lips, as he took Delita's cock into his mouth. Gone was the long tail of hair that he'd used to wrap around his fist, but there were still golden locks enough to entangle his fingers in. 

There had been a time, years ago, when every moment they could find to be alone was one that saw them pressed together, undoing buttons, sharing breaths between kisses. Ramza, starved for gentle touches, _could_ tumble over the edge just by the flick of Delita’s tongue against his skin, the motion of their bodies through layers of cotton and silk. But Delita would need more, and Ramza would glance over his shoulder and then drop to his knees. 

There were entire lessons in lecture halls at Gariland that Delita recalled only as a faraway voice droning on as a blond head bobbed in his lap.

Ramza's mouth, still as strong and as talented as he'd recalled in the loneliest hours of their time apart, brought him so swiftly and easily to full attention that it was a struggle to push him away.

"I wasn't finished," Ramza said, a little petulantly. 

"Neither was I," Delita countered, and Ramza’s whoop as he was tossed back onto the rumpled bedsheets was just as delighted as it was surprised. 

Ramza arranged himself on his back and had folded a pillow in half to wedge underneath himself by the time Delita had finished undressing. Delita made a simple gesture with his hand, lifting his chin. "Turn over."

"Why? I want to kiss you."

"I want to fuck you," Delita said, climbing onto the bed. "And I well recall how you like it." He lowered his voice to a growl. "From behind like a coeurl in heat, with your face muffled against the pillows so your brothers don't hear you."

"And how many hours, exactly, were there between prayers at Mullonde?"

"Turn _over,"_ Delita said again, and there were a few moments of breathless struggle as they collided on the bed, punctuated with Ramza's sounds of pretended protest as he was pressed against the bed on his stomach with Delita atop him. Ramza's lithe body was agile, with a great deal of hidden strength, but Delita had always been heavier and better muscled and, over the years, much better at getting what he wanted. 

"Are you going to behave yourself?" Delita panted.

“Never,” Ramza grinned in response, raising himself up to his elbows with a grunt. 

Delita shifted, drawing his fingers down Ramza's thighs. "Bring your knees up," he said, and when Ramza complied he could not help but pause a moment to enjoy what had been set out before him, a moment of anticipation that did not ride on grief or dread. 

"Are you trying to recall how this is done?" Ramza said impatiently.

"Appreciating the view."

_"Sauce!"_

Delita leaned forward, letting his cock rest in the cleft of Ramza's buttocks. "Saints, how I've missed you," he said. "There were times when I thought I would die of it. Not knowing where you were. Straining to hear any scrap of news about you. Hurrying to be sure our paths would cross when I needed them to." 

Ramza's response was a barely audible gasp as Delita entered him. Easing inside of him, the warmth and pressure, the faint shiver of his body, was like coming home. He wanted their joining to be as slow and sweet as he'd envisioned, but Ramza rocked back against him and the abrupt kiss of hip to thigh reminded Delita of how much he'd wanted this, and for how long. He withdrew and sank back in again, still trying to master himself.

Then Ramza said his name, softly, needily, and the sudden surge of lust broke easily past Delita’s will.

As boys they'd had had to come together quietly, stifling moans and curses so that no eavesdropping stable boy or chambermaid could go tattling to one of Ramza's brothers-- Dycedarg, who wanted Ramza's reputation kept intact for when the time came for him to be bound in some politically advantageous marriage; Zalbaag, who considered their infatuation the most wicked of sins. 

But they were not boys here, and if someone in this out of the way hostelry overheard Delita's groaning oaths or the increasing timbre and volume of Ramza's cries of pleasure, there would be no shame for it, no punishment awaiting them when they finally uncoupled. 

At least that is what the both of them assumed, until someone in the next room pounded on the wall and bellowed at them to shut up.

There was a beat of silence as they both looked up at the noise. Ramza began to laugh helplessly, laying his head on his arms; Delita lifted a hand to wipe sweat from his temple. They tried to begin again, but every creak of the mattress seemed overloud and Ramza could not stop his giggling and finally Delita withdrew. 

"He sounded very cross," Ramza said as Delita moved to slump beside him. "Shall I go over and apologize?"

"You were right about things staying the same," Delita sighed. "Will there ever be a time and a place we can be together without interruption?"

"Perhaps." Ramza drew closer, kissing the frown from Delita's mouth. "I have seen a great many things come to pass that I never thought possible."

Delita snorted. "Any of them for the good?"

"Some." Another kiss, exploring the line of Delita's jaw with parted lips. "Am I not in your arms again?"

"For now." 

"Do not steal the sweetness of this moment, thinking of what must happen next." Ramza turned on his back once more, beckoning Delita with a crook of his finger. "Come. I will try to be quieter this time."

When they came together again, it was slower, more careful, but no less sweet. Ramza muffled his moans first against Delita's mouth and then the junction of his neck and shoulder, his hands splayed across Delita's broad back. Delita buried his face in Ramza's hair, and thought of how he'd never appreciated how lovely Ramza's voice sounded when he was struggling to keep quiet: his trembling whispers of Delita's name as he neared climax, his mouth opening silently, his startled gasp as Delita pinned his wrists to the bed. 

Delita indulged himself against the sensitive skin of Ramza's throat and collarbone, leaving several more livid red marks and, as Ramza arched and bucked and cried out, bit down into his shoulder and felt the satisfying twitch and spurt of Ramza's orgasm between them. 

The shuddering pressure of Ramza's body was almost enough to bring Delita over the edge-- almost. Ramza clung to him, muscles still taut and quivering, fingernails raking down his back, and pressed his lips to Delita's ear to beg him to _come, finish inside of me, I need it, please--_

Delita's release was long in coming and long in staying, so welcome it was almost painful. No worshipful pilgrim, no round-eyed acolyte had made him lose himself as he did now, teeth grinding, hands shaking, and only after it was done was he able to get breath enough to speak Ramza's name and speak it again, and again, like a spell that would keep time and fate from forcing them apart.

When he could find no other words, he simply lay his head beside Ramza's, accepting an exhausted kiss and three whispered words that he felt against his lips and against his heart, even if the roaring in his ears was too loud to hear them.

**

Valmafra would be waiting, Delita told himself, and thinking up all sorts of pithy remarks for their journey back to the castle. Someone would be running out of polite excuses for Ramza's extended absence. But neither of them could find it in themselves to care, just then, as they lay together and dozed dangerously close to the edge of a deeper sleep that might end with them waking surrounded by armed men eager to make an end of either or both of them.

They had uncoupled; they had risen, briefly, to wash and to kiss and to offer post-coital apologies for bruises inflicted and muscles strained. And, at Ramza's insistence and Delita's remarkable lack of will to refuse him, they had gone back to bed.

Ramza might have asked after the Princess, or Delita's training with the Church. They might have spoken of Ziekden and what had happened after. They could have made love again. But Ramza was content to simply be held, and Delita was more than willing to hold him, though Ramza's hands did make a more thorough exploration of Delita's body, exclaiming softly at how much broader and more muscular he'd become. 

The sky outside the window turned gray and then white, and Delita pretended not to see it, nor to hear the first sounds of folk on the road outside. Ramza tucked his head against Delita's chest, sighing, as footsteps passed in the hall outside their rented room. They stay coiled together even as they listened to their erstwhile neighbor complain to the innkeep about having to listen to thumping and caterwauling all night (Ramza clamped both hands over his mouth to quiet his laughter; even Delita couldn't help but snicker).

When the bells of the church they'd met in began to toll, however, Ramza finally raised himself up onto one elbow, pushing an errant lock of hair from his eyes. "I had best go hooded," he said, squinting at the window. "There's been ample time for word of my presence here to have spread."

"We shouldn't be seen leaving together. I'll go first, and you can follow." Delita found Ramza's shirt, tangled in its own laces from its hurried removal, and tossed it onto the bed. "I'll see that the owner has enough coin to find something to occupy him long enough for you to leave unmolested."

"It really is like when we were boys," Ramza said. "With you sneaking from my rooms before the maids woke up."

Delita allowed himself a smile. "I don't think we were fooling anyone then."

Ramza spent a long while doing up the laces on his shirt before he said softly, "I know that if I ask you to ride south with me, you will say no."

"Then perhaps it's better that you do not ask." 

"I wish--"

"No," Delita said, turning to him. "No, you don't." He took Ramza's face in his hands to kiss him. 

A moment passed. Then another. 

And another.

"They will wonder where I've gone," Ramza protested, but he had already begun undressing again. "Is your woman not waiting for you?"

"She can wait a while longer."

"And Fort Besselat?"

"Armies do not move so swiftly. I will be quick."

"I should be insulted!"

"You should be _quiet,_ this time."

"Then quiet me," Ramza challenged him.

Some hours later, Delita did rise from the bed again, but only to close the shutters.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you just wanna write two people having adult fun-times.
> 
> Thanks to Atramento for the beta!
> 
> Jaydeefaire.carrd.co


End file.
